


Steps of Change

by WennyT



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ, EXO (Band)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Dialogue Heavy, Don We Now Our Gay Apparel, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Jung is a dense idiot... Or maybe not, M/M, Mangling Prochaska's work, Matchmaking, Oblivious, Playing Cupid, Shim is an emotionally challenged turd, Tao is a plot device, an exercise in being, here I go muttering again, the entire EXO is a plot device
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-01-31
Packaged: 2018-01-08 19:55:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1136719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WennyT/pseuds/WennyT
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><br/>All Yunho wanted for Christmas was for everyone he loved to be safe and healthy.<br/>All Changmin wanted for Christmas was for Yunho to stop being so blind.<br/>All Zitao wanted for Christmas was peace. Too bad he had to work for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I - Precontemplation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yamtempura](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yamtempura/gifts).



> I nearly surrendered on doing research on EXO and one specific Huang Zitao in particular. Thank fuck Jenn likes this.

 

Zitao was not certain why he had made up this fucked up plan to begin with, but now that he was in the middle of it, he could not exactly stop now, could he? Well, he could, technically. But he is fond of seeing things through.

 

It started when Minseok-hyung and Luhan were squealing like teenage girls high on sugar, over U-know Yunho. _Again_.

 

“Look at the way he turns,” Minseok-hyung sighed, eyes wide and adoring and focused on the television screen. “It’s so graceful, so— _Michael_.”

 

“Jordan?” Zitao murmured, just to be a little shit.

 

Minseok-hyung did not even bother to look away from the screen, and crumpled his mouth slightly into a frown. “ _Jackson_ , dongsaeng.”

 

“Why are you even bothering with him?” Luhan scoffed, back ramrod straight next to Minseok-hyung and eyes equally glued to the television. “Oh, look, look, we need to ask hyung to teach us that move.”

 

“Since when are you _that_ close to Yunho-sunbae-nim? Calling him hyung?” Zitao coughed out from behind his fist. That got Luhan’s attention. He turned and leant behind Minseok-hyung’s back so that he could glare at Zitao without anything else in his line of sight. “Is your skin itchy for a beating?” He hissed in Mandarin, ignoring Minseok-hyung’s long suffering sigh.

 

“If we spar, you know I’ll win, Xiao Lu,” Zitao replied cheekily without missing a beat, in the same tongue.

 

Minseok-hyung heaved another sigh; sandwiched between the two of them. “I hate it when you two rattle on in Mandarin in front of me.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

It was not just Luhan and Minseok-hyung.

 

Even Kris, Canadian as he was, something that should have exempted him from investing too much into the juniors-fawning-over-seniors thing, got way too quiet and smiled too much whenever U-know Yunho popped up around them, usually because EXO was sharing a stage with U-know Yunho and Choikang Changmin.

 

He sidled up to Kris one time before their SM Town performance after U-know Yunho did nothing more than waving at them before hurrying down the hallway they were all in, to where Choikang Changmin was waiting with a thunderous look on his face.

 

“You like him?” He nudged at his leader with his elbow and raised an eyebrow, deliberately mangling his Korean.

 

Kris blinked in the direction where U-know Yunho had disappeared off to, with Choikang Changmin, and turned back to Zitao, not picking up the bait to correct the latter’s Korean for once. “He’s a great leader,” Zitao’s own leader points out, in Mandarin.

 

Zitao felt his eyebrow rising of its own accord, but replied in Mandarin. Kris must be pretty distracted indeed to not stick to his own speaking-Korean-in-Korea-for-practice rule. “For what it’s worth, I think you are, too.”

 

Kris frowned at him, eyes wary. “What do you want.”

 

“I can’t be nice to you?” Zitao sucked in a breath, and tried to look suitably heartbroken.

 

“No. Not without a motive.”

 

 

* * *

 

The gushing sessions they kept having with EXO-K about U-know Yunho was the last straw. He did not even realize half of his group was practically in love with the man.

 

It was inconvenient, when they would stop halfway in dance sessions to go “what would Yunho-hyung do, if he were asked to dance this move?”

 

It was boring, when Zitao would try to show them the latest shit G-Dragon and Top got into, and the conversation would inevitably steer into the direction of the latest shit U-know Yunho got into, instead.

 

It was tedious, when Zitao got yelled at, far too frequently, especially by Luhan and Suho; for not showing more interest in whenever U-know Yunho danced or sang or smiled or farted or whatever.

 

It was scary, the death glares he would receive from the entire horde of U-Know Yunho fanboys when the man himself came to talk to him, and not to the members who gazed after him in a manner eerily reminiscent of Zitao’s own fangirls.

 

Then they interviewed the two of them, interviewed TVXQ! about their, about EXO’s new reality show. It was mandatory, really, since the two of them were the most senior seniors in their company, with the exception of BoA-noona. And Luhan felt himself perk up at the sight of the cool, extremely-not-amused glances Choikang Changmin casted at whichever member U-know Yunho was singling out. Including Zitao himself.

 

Now _that_ was interesting.

 

 

* * *

 

It was no mean feat, trying to get Choikang Changmin’s number. Zitao asked Kris, because Kris would not ask much questions save for telling him not to get into trouble. But Kris did not have Choikang Changmin’s number, either, just his username for KakaoTalk. So Kris lectured Zitao for an hour on prank calls and the danger of placing them to highly respected seniors, who were also, by the way world-famous entertainers that should not be treated with anything but the utmost deference. But Kris relented after Zitao swore for the ninth time that he was not going to do anything stupid, and said that he would ask Zhou Mi-ge from Super Junior-M for Choikang Changmin’s number.

 

It turned out that Zhou Mi-ge did not have their senior’s number either, but Zhou Mi-ge was close to Kyuhyun-hyung, who was most definitely close to Choikang Changmin and who _most_ definitely had the latter’s number.

 

The entire farce took almost an entire week, and Zitao held onto Choikang Changmin’s number for another, certain that he was going insane for even thinking about what he was thinking.

 

Then he woke up one day to find Luhan literally sobbing into his –Zitao’s— shirt he had stupidly left on the living room sofa as Luhan watched some crazy documentary featuring U-know Yunho in Africa or somewhere.

 

The shirt cost Zitao nearly a month’s worth of his salary. This meant war. 


	2. II - Contemplation

 

“Changmin-sunbae-nim,” Zitao folded himself into a bow, straightening only when he saw the tips of Choikang Changmin’s shoes move, and a softly uttered, “no need to be so formal. Call me Changmin-hyung, Zitao.”

 

Zitao nodded, and tested it out. “Changmin-hyung.”

 

Changmin smiled, but it did not quite reach his eyes. “You went through a lot of trouble to get my number, you know.”

 

“Yes.” Zitao squared his shoulders and went for it, deliberately fixing his gaze somewhere to the older man’s left. “So. Changmin-hyung. You’re in love with Yunho-sunbae-nim.”

 

No answer, but Zitao could see a faintly murderous look flitting across Changmin’s face, before it smoothed out again into an impassive mask. He hurried on before his senior could speak. “I can help.”

 

Another beat of silence, and then Changmin shifted into a too-casual stance, leaning back against the door of the practice room they met in, arms folded across his chest. “What is in it for you?”

 

The words escaped his mouth before he could stop them. “You’re not going to deny it?”

 

Changmin raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think you would have gone into that much trouble and wasted that much time to try to wrestle my mobile number out from more than a few people, then only ring me a fortnight later, if you weren’t very sure of yourself.”

 

“Oh, that. Yes.” Zitao was losing his nerve; he remembered U-know Yunho saying once at an interview that he was like fire while Changmin was like water, but he did not think they were so dissimilar in private. It looked like he was wrong, though. U-know Yunho had spoke to Zitao more than a few times on his own, mostly regarding his performances and areas Zitao should look to improve, as well as offering words of encouragement. The memory of the leader of TVXQ! being enthusiastically encouraging was very different from how Changmin was regarding him, now.

 

“So I didn’t think I should waste either of our time denying it.” Changmin tilted his head. “I’ll ask again then— what’s it in for you?”

 

Blinking, Zitao tried to regain his composure. It did not quite work. “If I help you, you can give me vocal lessons?”

 

Changmin’s other eyebrow went up to join its counterpart. “Something slightly closer to your real reason, now.”

 

Zitao gave up.

 

“I just… I get so sick about the others gushing about Yunho-sunbae-nim, you know,” he said, hurrying on before Changmin could yell at him or flay him alive with words for not adoring U-know Yunho like the rest of EXO were. His Korean came out rushed and mangled, and he hoped Changmin could at least understand his words. “I mean, not that I don’t admire him. I do, I admire him, and you, for what you two have done for your careers. It’s just… It’s just it’s— I don’t know how to put this, but they keep going on and on, and it’s, I don’t know, it’s—”

 

“You just get tired of people worshipping him like he’s perfect,” Changmin finished for him.

 

“Yes.” Zitao blinked, shocked. “Y—you too?”

 

That earned him a faint smile in return. “Just because I’m in love with him doesn’t mean I think he’s perfect.”  

 

“You… you just said it out loud.” Zitao muttered. Saying things aloud, in Zitao’s experience, tend to make them more concrete somehow. More true. Just like how he did not really felt like he was leaving his homeland for Korea until he said the words “I am leaving China for Korea” out loud.

 

“I have had years to come in terms to the fact,” Changmin returned, pulling Zitao’s attention back to the present. “So you want to help me get Yunho into a relationship, then rub the fact into his fanboys’ faces?”

 

Zitao barely suppressed a groan. “Something like that, yes.”

 

A slow smile was spreading across Changmin’s face, though. “You just like to lord things over your hyungs, don’t you?”

 

“Uh, about that.” Shoving his hands into his pockets, Zitao rocked back on his heels and tried for a, “maybe.”

 

“What makes you think you’re able to help?” Yet another question, thrown out carelessly, and Zitao hummed, emboldened that it was a question he actually knew how to answer. “I think you’re an extremely private person, hyung. So probably no one else maybe other than Kyuhyun-hyung knows about this. And so… So maybe I can help you think of ways to um, let Yunho-sunbae-nim know. And, well. Give a fresh perspective on things. I mean, I’m a maknae too. And I can be your sounding board. I can give you new ideas. Three heads better than one and all that. Or, um, stuff.”

 

The smile on Changmin’s face widened, and the older man snorted. “I like you.”

 

Zitao stood as straight as his back allowed him to and tried not to feel too smug. “Uh, thank you.”

 

“I’ll let you help.” Changmin said, shoving his hands into his own pockets as well. “And no, Kyuhyun doesn’t know about this. But… Yes.” He looked tired, suddenly. “I could use some help. And in return, you can brag to your hyungs that you’re suddenly best friends with me and that makes you closer to Yunho than they are.”

 

Zitao tried to stop himself from grinning. He had started this ludicrous plan because he had wanted to do something to make his hyungs shut up, because they were dumb and gross about their fawning over U-kn— over Yunho, but this conversation showed him that Changmin was really, really, likeable. “I like how you think, hyung.”

 

Changmin grinned at him, an unexpected flash of even white teeth. “So. You up to telling me about those new ideas of yours over some beer and meat?”

 

* * *

 

Changmin gazed at him over the rim of his beer mug, expression dubious. “Five step programme?”

 

“Yeah, hyung,” Zitao gabbled, more excited than he should be. “Look, you said Yunho-sunbae-nim—”

 

“Yunho- _hyung_ , Zitao, there’s no need to be so formal—”

 

“Okay, okay, Yunho-hyung, anyway, you say he’s not really sensitive, right—”

 

“He’s as dense as a stupid block of wood,” Changmin corrected, voice bitter, while draining the last of his beer. The mug was set down with more force than necessary.

 

“Yeah, okay, so see. You have to hmm, kind of, pave it down, spell it out for him.” Zitao chewed on a piece of _galbi_ , his words somewhat mangled. “That’s where the five steps come in. You need to lead up to the big confession, you need to build upon it, see?”

 

Changmin casted him another long, considering look, before laying another piece of beef on the sizzling grill. “You’re giving me false hope that I may finally make him see the truth this year, you know.”

 

“Not false hope, hyung,” Zitao shook his head, chopsticks reaching for another piece of meat. “You’ve been doing this alone. Now you’ve got me. I’ll help you get him by this Christmas. I swear.”

  

* * *

 

 

“Hi, Yunho-hyung!” Zitao sang out cheerfully, as he walked past the man in question, while with Luhan. The greeting earned him a surprised smile from Yunho and a hard pinch in his ribs from Luhan. Zitao ignored the pain and the hiss of anger (“How dare you address him as hyung, he’s our dae-sunbae!”) leaking from his Xiao Lu next to him and opted for an exaggerated wave.

 

“Hello, Tao!” Yunho grinned, and nodded at Luhan as well. “You too, Luhan.”

 

The pain in Zitao’s ribs lessened slightly, and he took the opportunity to sling an unforgiving arm around Luhan’s shoulder, squeezing a mite too tightly for the gesture to be affectionate. “We’ll just be going now, hyung!”

 

“Yeah, work hard, you guys!” Yunho raised his hand in a returning wave, while turing to head the other way.


	3. III - Preparation

 

“Wouldn’t that just make him think I want to leave the group, or something?” Changmin pressed his lips in a thin line, leaning a shoulder against the brick wall. He was effortlessly elegant even with a puffy windbreaker covering most of his white shirt and dark trousers; Zitao felt like a country bumpkin in his sweat-soaked tee shirt and baggy sweatpants.

 

Zitao shook his head, even as his body folded itself into moves ingrained into it for years. He clenched his hand about the familiar feel of the gùn, as he kicked a foot high, bringing the wooden pole down against the floor. “Yeah, hyung, but that’s the point. For the first step, you have to shake him out of his happy bubble and make him think. If using such a clichéd line gets the job done…”

 

“Huh.” Changmin shifted, straightening with a considering hum. “You do have a point.”

 

* * *

 

_(i)_

 

“Yah, we need to talk.”

 

“Sorry, Hyoje, maybe later— Changmin-ah, what did I say about being rude to me in front of other people?”

 

“Was I rude?”

 

“…what’s wrong, Changminnie?”

 

“Don’t call me that.”

 

“I—”

 

“We need to talk.”

 

“Did I… do something?”

 

“No, but—”

 

“Is it because I messed up your fridge the last time I was over?”

 

“No—”

 

“I didn’t mean to dent your sound system—”

 

“That’s not—”

 

“I know interrupting your conversation with Kyuhyunnie was not very nice, but I just wanted to offer him my thoughts on his performance—”

 

“Why are you—”

 

“Or, is this about that time when I— I’m sorry for that, okay? I’m sorry for cancelling on you to join the ’85 line but—”

 

“You know what? _Forget it_.”

 

“No, wait, Changmin, don’t be angry!”

  

* * *

 

 

“He just ended up trying to apologize for a zillion things without letting me try to speak,” Changmin growled, crumpling yet another beer can in his fist. It was late at night, and he had opened the door to the dance studio TVXQ! usually commandeered half an hour ago, to find Zitao holding up a bag of crackers and a six-pack of beer.  

 

Zitao winced in sympathy. “That must have been fun for everyone.” He popped open another beer and offered it to Changmin.

 

The older man took it and sucked down a generous swig. “You see what I’m up against, now?”

 

“Well, since talking didn’t work… how about a more hands-on approach?” Zitao tried, even though he did not really know what he was trying to suggest, too.

 

“More hands-on, huh.”

 

* * *

 

_(ii)_

 

“Here.”

 

“What… what are you doing?”

 

“You need to eat more.”

 

“I need to ea—Changmin-ah, are you feeling okay?”

 

“…What makes you say that, _hyung_.”

 

“You do realize you just gave me about half of your bento?”

 

“I’m not hungry.”

 

“You’re not hung—I think we need to get you to the hospital.”

 

Silence.

 

“Changminnie?”

 

“For fuck’s sake, hyung, I just want to share my lunch with you. Do you have to make it so hard?”

 

“But you never share your food with anyone!”

 

“Yeah, okay, fine, but now I want to share it with _you_ , okay?”

 

“No, it’s not okay! Are you sick?”

 

“No. Just… ignore we had this conversation, okay. Put it out of your mind. And I’m eating that. Give it back. And your bento too. Give it here, give it to me, yeah. Okay. Now go away.”

 

“Changmin—”

 

“Go _away_.” 

 

* * *

 

 

“Hi,” Changmin uttered casually, as though he did not just barge in abruptly to their dance practice; as though not all twelve members froze in their steps to look at him; as though having a dae-sunbae-nimlike him appear in Exo’s practice sessions was an everyday occurrence.

 

Kris was the fastest to recover his composure, Suho a beat behind. They bent themselves over into deep bows, fringe almost touching their knees, and Kris spoke when Suho looked like he was still in the process of finding his voice. “Changmin-sunbae-nim! Good afternoon, what a p-pleasure to have you with us!”

 

To Kris’ credit, his voice only wavered barely noticeably.

 

“Ah, Kris, isn’t it?” Changmin grinned at him, and Zitao could hear, beside him, the series of stifled sounds emitting from Minseok-hyung and Lay. It made him hope that he would not sound as mortifying (or as porcine) when –if— he got to meet G-Dragon and T.O.P. in the future.

 

“Yes, sunbae-nim,” Kris answered faintly.

 

“Right,” Changmin nodded, craning his neck towards where Zitao is standing, nearest to the back of the room. “If I can just borrow—oh, Zitao-ah, there you are.”

 

Eleven heads swiveled around to glare holes through him in unison, and Zitao balked, despite himself. He lifted a tentative hand, dodging the kick Lay aimed at his shin. “Hi, Changmin-hyung.”

 

“Hey, you,” Changmin called out, and turned back to Kris and Suho. “So I was wondering, can I borrow him for a while? Zitao and I have some things to discuss.”

 

Suho was still mute, so Kris took up the challenge, voice almost steady. “Things to discuss with… our Tao? Our Huang Zitao? You know our Tao?”

 

If looks could kill, Zitao was sure he would be dead, eleven times over. And it was really unflattering that Kris was so stunned, when he was the one who helped Zitao get Changmin’s number. “Uh…”

 

Changmin saved him with an easy, “oh, we’re friends, Zitao and I. Aren’t we, Zitao-ah?”

 

“Yeah,” Zitao mumbled lowly, trying to avoid the gazes of his hyungs. Even Kai and Sehun were shooting him death looks, and they were supposed to respect him as their hyung.

 

He had envisioned this scene, or at least something like it about a dozen times in his head, but now that it was happening in real life, he was not so sure he liked it. Baekhyun looked like he wanted to take Zitao apart, piece-by-piece, with a blunt axe. And he was not the only one.

 

“I… oh,” Kris blinked, and blinked again. There was an awkward silence until Suho opened his mouth and let out a rushed, “yes, of course, you can borrow him, go ahead, if you want to keep him, it’s fine too, please just go ahead, sunbae-nim.”

 

“The hell, hyung?” Zitao protested, while Changmin tried not to laugh. “Right. Okay. Come on, Zitao-ah.”

 

It was hard navigating his way out of the dance studio without meeting anyone’s gaze, but Zitao managed it.

 

Changmin managed to hold in his laughter until they were out of SM and on the way to have some soondae together, in Changmin’s car. Then he exploded.

 

“I’m glad my impending demise is amusing you, hyung,” Zitao said sourly, while Changmin snorted out a breathless, “ah, I needed that.”

 

He sobered a little, and shot a quick glance at Zitao, voice rich with merriment. “Demise? Didn’t you want to rub the fact that you know me into your hyungs’ faces?”

 

“Yeah, but I didn’t think I was going to get killed over it.”

 

“Relax, they won’t kill you,” another chortle escaped from Changmin even as he flicked on the signal light and took a turn left. “They’ll keep you alive to harass you to get Yunho’s phone number from me, or something.”

 

Observing how Changmin’s face lost its smile at the mention of Yunho, Zitao scratched at the back of his neck. “Since you don’t look all that happy, I take it that your food approach didn’t work?”

 

“The idiot thought I was ill.” Changmin’s lips pressed together in a tight line, and his fingers tightened on the steering wheel until the tips were a pale white.

 

“Huh,” Zitao grimaced and cast around for another suggestion, even as the car glided to a stop outside the _soondae_ shop. “Huh. Okay. Well. Instead of sharing with him something you like; how about going with him to do something he likes, then?”

 

* * *

 

_(iii)_

 

“Hyung, want to go bowling?”

 

“You’re not mad at me anymore?”

 

“I was never mad at you.”

 

“You were mad at me, you totally were, okay, you even—”

 

“Do you. Want to. Go. Bowling. With me. Or not.”

 

“I… Ye- no, wait, why do you want to go bowling, Changminnie? I thought you said that you’ll rather swallow a bowling ball than bowl again, the last time we went together?”

 

“Why do you even remember such things—”

 

“Is it Ye Chye Neung? Is the upcoming sport bowling again? Has the basketball segment ended?”

 

“What are you on—”

 

“Are you under a lot of stress to practice? I can recommend you this coach one of my friends from Gwangju studied under, I heard he’s good, and—”

 

“I mean for the two of us to go bowling together—”

 

“You know I’m not good enough to coach you, Changminnie, much as I want to help. Fat lot of good I did you the last time round.”

 

“I don’t want to practice—”

 

“Of course you do, we’re _professionals_ , remember? I’ll call my friend to ask him for his coach’s number, we’ll make sure you can score some victories this time round!”

 

“No. It’s all right. Just pretend I haven’t said anything. It’s fine.”

 

“Don’t be stubborn, Changmin-ah, I’ll call him right now!”

 

“… Whatever.”

 

* * *

 

Zitao rounded the corner to see Changmin, slouched against the wall of the stair well, an arm propped up on a bent knee. “Hyung?”

 

“Oh, you’re here,” Changmin said tiredly, without even looking up.

 

“Hyung… Judging from your expression, it didn’t go well?”

 

“He thought I wanted to go bowling because I have to practice for my show.” The older man leant his head against the cold cement of the wall and tilted his head upwards, towards Zitao. His eyes remained closed. “He said he’ll get me the number of his bowling friend’s coach, instead.”

 

Zitao squatted down next to Changmin; unsure of what comfort he should offer. “Well...”

 

“How can anyone be so dense?” Changmin muttered rhetorically, fists clenching and unclenching.

 

“I know!” Zitao slapped his knee, nearly bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Okay, how about asking him out to do something he likes, but it can’t be linked to professional activities, or whatever? Preferably something that the two of you can do alone?”

 

* * *

 

_(iv)_

 

“Eh, hyung.”

 

“Oh, Changmin-ah… Wait, is that my backpack?”

 

“Yeah. And mine. Let’s go.”

 

“What—where are we going?”

 

“I feel like hiking, hyung. Let’s go. Just the two of us.”

 

“Today? Right _now_?”

 

“Why? Is there a problem?”

 

“I’m actually meeting Hojun-hyung for lunch today, Changminnie…”

 

“It’s our day off!”

 

“Yeah, that’s why I’m meeting him, we scheduled this last week. I’m sorry, Changmin-ah.”

 

“…”

 

“Or well, we could go hiking, with Hojun-hyung! How about that, Changmin?”

 

“Don’t speak to me like I’m some _child_ who requires placating.”

 

“I’m not— and _you_ really shouldn’t talk to me that rudely. I’m still your hyung, even if you seem to not remember that most of the time.”

 

“Look at you, you’re getting mad? Why the fuck are you mad? You don’t even deserve to get mad.”

 

“I really don’t know what the hell is wrong with you lately, Changmin, but I won’t let you vent your frustrations on me—”

 

“Ah ha ha ha, fuck you—”

 

“I have my friends too, you know. I have a life, too. I have friends, I’m not your shadow, I’m not your poor hyung, your charity case to be dragged around when you’re happy and then used as something to poke fun at and laugh about to your friends when you’re not—”

 

“—the _fuck_ you talking about?”

 

“—I’m not your toy, nor your possession, and it’ll do you well to remember that, and _not to take your temper out at every opportunity on me_!”

 

“No, okay, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… Hyung? Hyung? Wait. Yunho! _Wait_!”

 

* * *

 

Zitao woke up suddenly to his phone ringing in his ear; stabbing blindly at the answer button, he grumbled a barely coherent “hello?” into the receiver.

 

“Did I wake you?”

 

The voice pulled him into wakefulness. Zitao sat up, and rubbed at his eyes. “Oh, Changmin-hyung, hi.”

 

A pause, and then: “I did wake you, then.”

 

“Yeah, sort of,” Zitao said hesitantly, and because Changmin did not sound too good, he tacked on a hasty, “but I’m awake now, so what’s up, hyung?”

 

“Option four failed.”

 

“Oh.” Balking, Zitao scuffed a hand through his hair. They were both silent for a long while, and then a movie he once saw popped into his head. Changmin could do that. It was worth a try. And he ventured tentatively, “maybe… since you can’t say it to Yunho-hyung face-to-face, hyung, maybe… Maybe you should write it down?”

 

“I’m not writing him a love letter, Zitao.” Came from over the phone.

 

“No, I don’t mean writing him a letter.” Zitao shook his head, as though Changmin could see him, and continued, warming up to his subject. “I watched this movie before, and they did this thing with a marker and a notepad, and it was Christmas in the movie, I think? And this guy totally used that technique to confess to a girl he liked—I can’t remember the name…”

 

“You mean Love, Actually?”

 

“Yes! That one! That’s the one.”

 

“Zitao-ah.” Changmin’s voice was wry.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“That guy didn’t get the girl in the end, you know. She decided to stay married to his best friend.” The bitterness in Changmin’s voice deepened, until Zitao almost winced just from hearing it.

 

“Yeah, well, she felt touched by it and everything though, wasn’t she? And it’s not like Yunho-hyung is married. Hyung, there’s no harm in trying. Really.” Zitao did not know if he was trying to convince Changmin, or himself. 


	4. IV - Action

  
_[aka (v) ]_   


 

Knocking.

 

“Why are you here, going t—”

 

“No, no. Don’t speak. Just… just hear me out. I’m not here to fight. Or argue. I’m… Just hear me out, okay?”

 

“…”

 

“I’ll take that as an ‘okay’, then. Since you haven’t slammed the door in my face. So… Hi. Happy Christmas Eve. Uh, first of all, I’ll like to um, apologize. For shouting at you that day, and for being so unreasonable these past few weeks. I’m just… You know I’m not very good at words, hyung, and I get dumb and moody, but believe me when I say I don’t see you as a charity case or a possession or whatever. I see you as a hyung, _my_ hyung, my best friend, my colleague, my Yunho. And when I say I want to hang out with you, well. I mean I do want to hang out with you. And yeah, I’m sorry, sometimes I forget that you have your own friends too, and I don’t react very well, that’s just me being idiotic, and… I’m making a mess of this. As usual. I just… I’m sorry, Okay?”

 

“…”

 

“Oh, um, if... If you accept my apology, nod? Please.”

 

A slow nod.

 

“Okay. That’s that then.” A deep breath. “Secondly. I’m actually here to say something else. Or… to be more specific, show something else. I— you asked what’s been wrong with me lately, and since I’ve tried a few times to say it, without success, I guess— I guess maybe showing it, will be better.”

 

“…”

 

“Okay, so… Here goes.”

 

A blink.

 

 

Another blink.

 

 

A raised eyebrow.

 

 

Raised eyebrows.

 

 

Crossed arms in front of a chest.

 

 

A hand on the door handle.

 

 

A tilted head.

 

 

Slackened arms and a jaw.

 

 

“…”

 

“…”

 

“…”

 

“…”

 

“It’s… okay if you don’t return my feelings, I mean, I just wanted to let you know. Since it’s Christmas, and all. And I thought I’ll try—”

 

“You’re the one who told me to shut up.”

 

“Oh. Oh, yeah, I— I forgot. Um, you can speak now. Any… any thoughts?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“You’re impossibly anal about your possessions, I’m pretty sure you have some form of psychiatric disorder with how frequently you clean, you hold onto a grudge longer than that scary pale female ghost stuck in a plastic bag, you treat me like shit most of the time, and you are nearly twenty-six but you still throw tantrums whenever you don’t get your way.”

 

“…”

 

“Oh, and I love you too.”

* * *


	5. V - Maintenance

The ringtone went on for ages, and Zitao was about to hang up and re-dial once more, when Changmin answered his phone with a breathless, “y-yes?”  
  
“Changmin-hyung!” Zitao cried. “You never did get back to me… So did it work?”  
  
“It w—” was all Changmin could get out, when what sounded like a scuffle broke out at the other end. A few bumps and grunts, and one moan –of pain?— later, another voice spoke. “Tao, is that you?”  
  
“Oh… I—Yunho-sunbae-nim!” Zitao barely managed to keep his jaw from falling open. “I, I mean, Yunho-hyung, uh, hi—”  
  
“Changminnie will call you back later, okay?” Yunho said brightly, and Zitao could hear Changmin moaning again, rather faintly in the background. He hoped it was not because option five had failed and Yunho had beaten Changmin up in anger, or anything like that. “He’s kind of busy right now.”  
  
“Oh, um, it’s okay, it isn’t important anyway—” Stammered Zitao, and he could hear an odd, rhythmic slapping noise, even as Yunho replied briskly. “Nonsense, you’re our dongsaeng, of course whatever you have to say is important.”  
  
“Huh? I—”  
  
“Anyway, thanks for all your help,” Yunho interrupted while Changmin made another odd noise, something between a yell and a scream. “I’m hanging up now. Changminnie will call you later, when he’s done!”  
  
The dial tone sounded in Zitao’s ear, and he pulled away his phone, more than a little confused. Then several things clicked to place in his head: the moaning, the breathlessness, the slapping noises. Yunho’s ‘thanks for all your help’.  
  
“Oh. My. Fuck.”

* * *

END

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Lunar New Year!


End file.
